


Captured

by OnceUponaFangirl



Category: 24 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponaFangirl/pseuds/OnceUponaFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in Russia, Jack encounters an old friend who changes all of his plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I sincerely apologize for this first part. I promise the second part is full of love and healing and all that jazz. This takes place right after the 24: Live Another Day finale. Some spoilers from the last episode. Read at your own risk. Because of the conditions these characters are in, this fic is pretty dark. Originally posted August 7, 2014. I do not own 24 or any characters in 24. Those rights are reserved to FOX. Thank you!

The tautology of a life exiled in torture. Whether this was spoken or felt through the silence, the nuances in shifting bodies and tones brought more dread with every passing moment. But the second feeling, one Jack was too afraid to name, crept up on him just as steadily as the plane's propeller spun. It was the feeling that washed over him as the muscles in his face tightened, lips forming the unfamiliar shape of a smile. Relief.

He thought science should fight against it, but while he wasn't feeling excessive physical pain, he sanctioned his mind to go back into the deep, dark, painful place science labeled as his memory. First, he was enamored with Teri's bouncy brown curls as she tried to hold in her excitement. "I'm pregnant! " she shouted, her presence full of giggles and a feeling much stronger than happiness. She lept from her seat, "You're going to be a father! Honey, we're finally going to be parents." Jack wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her lips, cheek, neck, shoulders, as he smiled and spun her around. "You're going to be the most wonderful mother," he whispered as his lips found hers again. Skip ahead to twenty-two years later, when he saw himself sitting across Secretary of State James Heller. The tan leather seat didn't seem to fit his body, and fighting the impulse to fidget, he scanned the room and all pictures evenly dispersed on one of the four walls As he reached the wall directly behind him the door opened and a goregous woman appeared.

"Jack I'd like you to meet my daughter Audrey," He said.

Jack nodded, the need to move evaporated as she stepped closer. "Nice to meet you."

"Honey, this is Jack Bauer, my newest employee. You'll be seeing a lot more of him."

"I'm sorry to interrupt but there's a call on line three," Audrey said. Jack was still staring at her. "I'll show you out Jack.". He turned and shook Heller's hand before following this new woman into the unknown.

Closer and closer to the present his memories drew. For all his ability to read people, there was one who cracked all of his training and confidence in that feild, one who he could never read. Singlehandedly he drug her down the same path to hell he'd already traveled by fighting for the greater good; a fight that they had somehow miscalculated, ending up with shattered pieces of themselves.

"Jack listen, I know we've said a lot of things to each other and you've made promises to me…" she began. "I just want you to know that I'm not going to hold you to them. It's been a terrible day and I know we say things in the moment, and I just, I don't want you to-"  
She hadn't noticed he was moving closer until she felt the warmth of his hands caressing her face, an impossible contrast of callus against her smooth skin. His lips touched hers, she opened her mouth tracing her tongue over his in an immediate response. Her left hand found the back of his head, messing his hair as he picked her up, headed for the bed.

That's when the pain hit, a force that continuously beat him. They all met their end by the pull of a trigger. He couldn't protect them, the ones he loved most. In his mind, he deserved every day of torture he was about to endure. The best part? He could never hurt anyone again. A small feeling of relief bubbled up again; he was paying for his sins.

***  **One month and 5 Days Later**

In China, Jack never spoke a word. Twenty months of what would be silence if it weren't for his screams of pain. This wasn't China. He enjoyed taunting his captors, with the expense of more pain; not that the pain ever subdued. It lacinated in his bones and thoughts, the emotional toll equal while sleeping. A month in Russia led him to prefer the physical pain. It was familiar, kept him awake. He learned to focus on it, turning his thoughts and emotions off and drenching himself in the severity of the cut, gash, or drug being injected into his body. When able to speak, he cursed, the only words rolling off his tounge were filled with vile hate. "Fuck you." he whispered as the knife found his abdomen.

He wasn't sure if his stomach was still intact with the rest of his bruised and aching body. The knife continued to find shards of skin to pierce, digging deep into the muscle at his abdomen, and jerking everything but bone from his insides. His screams only made the pain worse.

"Oh that's right, Mr. Bauer, you used a blow torch, " the thick Russian accent, Dimitri, left to a nearby room and returned, blue fire already igniting. He smiled, and touched the fire to Jack's open wound, assimilating his cries of pain. It felt as if he had calculated how long Jack could stand this without death.

"Stepan, go get the medical supplies. We don't want Mr. Bauer's suffering to end. Not before he's seen what we've done to her." The young man went and did as he was told.

Jack's vision was blurred, so when she appeared completely unclothed except for a navy blanket draped over her shoulders, held together in between her breasts with purple and red hands, nothing registered. He squinted, making her features sharper. There was dried blood trickling down her swollen face, hair that went past her waist, also clumped with the red substance. It almost blended into the color at the ends of her hair, but not quite. She had trouble keeping her balance, and that's when he took notice of her legs. Dirt, blood, and unnatural yellows, blues, and purples encompassed the bottom half of her body. Slowly, as if she was battling paralysis, her hand found it's way over her mouth and she sunk to the ground. "What the hell." she screamed, unvarnished terror and hysteria rising in her voice. "Jack," she wimpered. After taking in the sight of him, she slapped Dimitri. "Fuck you, you son of a bitch!" Anger took a visible form on her body and flowed through her veins.  
Dimitri smirked, wiping off the area where she hit him. "Your boyfriend here said the same thing." He leaned closer in to her ear. "And you'll pay for that later," he whispered.

Jack had been shot. That feeling of shock, knocking you backwards and losing the ability to breathe, to form a coherent thought wasn't even a strong enough comparison to describe it. Leaning forward he tried to lessen the proximity of his body from hers, but he couldn't move.

"Fix him," a voice behind Renee said, handing her tools to sew him up and enough gauze to mummify him. She rose and took them, shaking so hard she dropped them twice.

When her face was almost touching his, he lifted his head up to her eye level. "Renee," he whispered, or cried. The sound coming from his mouth was not his own. It was too weak and terrified.

"Be still."

Gradually, their captors emptied the room until Jack and Renee were left with each other, their emotions, and their demons.

Words weren't enough, so neither of them spoke for a while. Jack had connected some of the pieces while she tried to stop the bleeding and sew him up. Both were teary eyed and Renee avoided eye contact. She silently grabbed Jack's torn shirt in a nearby corner and slipped it on.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered before finally looking into his eyes. His face was laden with pain, emotional and physical. He was waiting for an explanation. Where had she been since his arrival? Why was she alive? "The men - if you can even call them that- the men here are very possessive. Something happened." She shifted her body weight a few times using the ground to balance. "I was in the hospital for a month. There was someone guarding me at all times and one of the doctors was…Forget it." Jack's impulse control fell short as he reached out and slowly tucked several stray hairs behind her left ear. Renee swallowed, relaxing into his touch. "After," she continued, "They wanted to makes sure I was in immeasurable pain before you saw me."

"I thought you were dead." he whispered.

"Surprise…I'm still alive. But I can't…" Her voice trailed off and Jack's arm reached out and pulled her to his chest. In silence, she welcomed his embrace and rested her head there until being jerked away half an hour later.

Growing up, Renee loved the feeling of the cold concrete floor, or refrigerator door, on her cheek when she was sick. It coined the sensation of difluence. The contrast between her body heat and the floor brought a comfort only found when fever struck. "Like an ice pack on a bruise," her father used to say when he found her sprawled out on the bathroom or kitchen tile, wrapped in a blanket. While the circumstances were vastly altered, the same philosophy applied. Pain seized her ribcage first, knocking her to the ground. Then she felt it in her lungs. Gasping for air and attempting to stand, she grabbed her captors foot, twisting it and bringing him down to the ground. Soon, there were three of them, kicking, punching, biting, and undressing her.

"You like this Jack?" one of the men asked before breaking her nose. She wanted to tell Jack it was okay, but she couldn't breathe. She wanted to explain to him how the ground felt soothing on her bare skin, but she could feel herself drifting out of consciousness.

*** **Los Angeles: Same time**

Chloe sat across an empty booth, glancing between her coffee, the clock, and the muted red carpeting beneath her tarnished black combat boots.

"Chloe?" a familiar voice behind her asked before walking into her vantage point.

"Thanks for coming," she responded as Kim took the seat across from her. They took the next couple minutes and studied each other while making small talk about Teri and Toby (Kim's children). Kim's light blonde hair stopped at the round of her breasts, and she was sporting a dark blue sweater that matched her eye color and black dress pants. Her eyes appeared more tired than their last encounter, as did Chole's. Chloe's hair was a dark mess, but her subtle makeup reflected something more. She wore jeans with multiple holes in them and a black tanktop. A dark leather jacket laid in her seat to her right. "You're dad was pardoned by President Heller the day he surfaced. He saved a lot of lives, including mine."  
Kim tried to suppress the smile on her face. Picking up her coffee, she took small sips while she gathered her thoughts. "That's great. I just don't know if I'm-"

"He's been captured by the Russians." Chloe said, sadness more visible and deep than Kim had ever seen it.

Several beats passed before Kim spoke. "That's not as great," Her voice cracked with her words, any sign of happiness obliterated. "What happened? Just so I can know or cope or something."

Chloe balled up her fists and closed her eyes, suppressing the guilt and tears she felt weighing on her. "He gave himself up for me. It was his life for mine. I finally have a plan to get him back."

***

The first thing Renee felt was a trembling, gentle hand. It moved up her leg as if scared to apply any pressure until a thin fabric covered her hipbone and backside. Then the hand redirected it's focus. A strap was constraining her shoulder, first her left, then her right. Was someone dressing her? She wondered until her thoughts were confirmed by two shakey hands pressing into the uppermiddle of her back; she felt a battered bra holding up her breasts. Now she could feel the shape of the hand; it was large and callused, both thumbs bent out of place, broken. She willed her eyes to open but blackness was still there heavy on her eyelids. Whoever dressed her stood up now and walked to the opposite corner of the room (she tracked the footsteps) and back. A thick felt blanket was then draped on her back. This time her eyes opened,

"Jack?" she whispered, not sure if her voice was audible. He picked her up and sat her against a wall, eyes bloodshot and watery.

"Hey," he replied, voice just as quiet as hers. The lighting was decidedly dim, but she was grateful for any light at all. "They left. To a bar. Security is still tight around the tight. " He held up a wet rag and dabbed it on her face where the cuts were.

"Thanks." She realized her voice didn't have the strength to be any louder. "I need to tell you something but it still hurts to breathe."

"It's okay. Relax." He repositioned his body next to hers and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his muscles spazing out and knew they had injected him with at least three different drugs, probably about 2 hours ago.

"No. Please… After I was shot," she inhaled deeply, "One of the surgeon's had been bribed by Red Square to drug me…" She squinted, scanning the room to keep her focus while trying to catch her breath. "with drugs to temporarily …stop my heart," four beats of silence, "and cause paralysis." Out of breath, her body careened on Jack's shoulder. "I woke up here."

Jack began combing his fingers through her hair. He knew it was most likely messing it up even more, but he was afraid to touch her anywhere else. The vibration of her body increased erratically as she succumbed to the pain and cried.

They woke up to the sound of shattering glass. Renee's head rested in Jack's lap. Trying to recollect her thoughts, she vaguely remembered falling asleep. Jack's hand rested on the back of her head, an anchor that brought the false sense of a safetynet.

"You didn't have to sleep sitting up," she yawned. "Are they alive?" she asked, motioning to two of their drunk captors who lay passed out on the floor. "Do you think?" She stopped mid sentence, letting mental telepathy do the rest.

"Can you walk?" he asked. She fell silent, but pushed herself into a sitting position. She immediately felt light headed. "You need water." Grabbing her forearms, he lifted her up and walked her over to a sink a couple rooms to the left. When stopped, Jack took the guard's gun and shoved it into the guard's throat. "We have about three minutes at the most."

Turning the faucet on, Renee cupped her hands, letting the water chill her skin before bringing them back up to her mouth a few times. "Let's go." she said.

It was a mutual omniscient understanding of the other and their mind. A silent syncing of thoughts. There were 4 exits. Only two of them would produce a possible positive outcome. Renee could barely walk, but she could still shoot. Revenge wasn't an option. Jack will do anything to protect her. Renee will do anything to protect Jack. She had the gun from the dead security guard. He had strength.

Halfway to the first exit, a loud explosion awakened the entire compound. "Get down!" Jack yelled, throwing his body over Renee's as a protective barrier. Renee handed him the gun. One by one, he took six men out, but whoever caused the gaping hole in the wall was also on his side, killing the Russians just as quickly.

"Jack!" the intruder yelled. He called out again.

In one sweep, Jack picked Renee up, running towards the man. "Belcheck?" he asked as he sprinted passed him.

"You didn't think Chloe and I would let you rot in this bloody hell hole, did you? Run. I'll finish them off."

Jack smiled seeing that saving grace took the shape of a sky blue van and a couple old friends.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't do this anymore Jack." Renee briefly closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. She listened to the kids outside their apartment playing basketball and the predictable yet erratic rhythm of car horns and running feet. "I don't know what you want me to do and I can't sit around here playing house because your too scared to make a damn decision. I know you think that my being with you is going to result in me getting hurt Jack, but I promise," she paused letting the anger in her tone evaporate. "I promise I can't be hurt more than I already have. And I want to be with you. I know you do too or you wouldn't have butchered a man and killed so many people who were responsible." Her voice was five tones softer now, "Fuck…Jack I love you. I loved you that first day and denied it for over a year. Don't say anything right now. But you are either all in or nothing. Our days are numbered," masking the shock that her voice and composure was as strong as it was, she continued. "I need some distance. I'll be back in a few hours. Please don't let fear control you." Renee walked away, slipping her hands into her pockets and letting the door shut behind her.

***  **Three Weeks Earlier**

They were walking, ticking, time bombs. After getting back to the States, both Jack and Renee were admitted to a hospital for three days. They urged Renee to stay longer so they could evaluate her psychological state, but Renee refused to do so. Jack was not as well off as Renee was led to believe and had a few surgery needed wounds. Within two days of being home, both had multitudes of different pills and therapy, which totalled to an hour and a half of therapy everyday for six days a week. It wasn't until her sixth day back that Renee reacted to the aftermath of her traumatic experience.

"My mom has Alzheimers," she casually mentioned to Dr. Bennett one Thursday afternoon. "She was diagnosed shortly after my father died. He was military."

"Have you thought about reconnecting with your family?" she inquired. Dr. Bennett was an older lady, mid 50s in age, with silver hair that stopped at her shoulders. Her hair had a youthful bounce and light curl to it, and her sweeping side bangs highlighted tones of white. She always wore professional clothing and a dark pink lipstick that Renee hated, but she still gave off a warm grandmother-like feel. Renee made a conscious effort to not hate her guts completely, and Dr. Bennett's go-with-the-flow-talk-to-me-on-your-own-time attitude made it easier. Some sessions Renee wouldn't say a word, so they sat in silence, watching the clouds out the window slowly shift. Other days Renee would use this time to catch up on sleep (God knows she never got any from the nightly torment that sleep brought her).

"I really should be talking about this with Jack, " Renee stammered. "We've never…We've never talked about my family." Guilt pained Renee's face.

"You're right." Dr. Bennett put her reading glasses on and glared at her notes, contemplating her next words. "Can I ask you a very personal question, Ms. Walker?"

The look on Renee's face was a cross between astonishment and confusion; her eyebrows raised, mouth slightly opened, and her eyes questioning. "Can't promise I'll answer," she finally said flatly.

Dr. Bennett set her notes to her left and removed her glasses. "Are you and Jack sleeping together?"

The confusion disappeared from Renee's face. "Oh! Um," she could feel the heat on her cheeks rising. Shit. "Well um…It's complicated. I'm living with him and we're sleeping together but we've not slept together since…Since I got shot." Renee could feel the tension in her muscles tighten and tried to relax. "He's afraid of hurting me," she shifted her body to the right, "I don't think it's just the fractures, the bruises, and the broken bones. It's more than that." She quieted, reflecting on the sexual tension separating them since their return. When she woke up crying from nightmares, he held her, but it would never move past that. Holding her. Comforting her. Talking to her. Most of the time that was what she needed, but there were times she longed for more. Like when he was changing her bandage, making small talk about Chloe and Kim and her family or planning an outing; laser focused eyes, his lips inches from her fragile bare skin. For a moment, she imagined his lips, gently brushing up against her, moving upward over her shoulder to her neck. She remembered their first time and the happiness and warmth that overwhelmed her. And sitting across from her therapist, Dr. Bennett, she realized one indisputable fact: she loved him.

"Do you want an umbrella?" Dr. Bennett asked as Renee departed.

"No. I'll be fine. Thank you." replied Renee as she walked out the door. It was torrential downpour outside the cozy office, sky a charcoal gray mixed with tones of an off white that appeared as a lighter gray. Stopping at the door that led to the parking lot, she reached into her pocket and retrieved her new phone. One missed call: Jack. Second nature kicked in and she pressed redial before processing her actions. His voice soothed her. "No I'm fine." Silence. "Yeah I'll see you in a few minutes," she felt her stomach do the weird twisty thing as his voice softened. "I will. You too." The call ended too quick. Outside, she could see a young woman running to her car, hunched over with a jacket covering her head and back. Opening the door, Renee removed her shoes, letting her feet soak in a rough pool of water. Within seconds she was soaked. Several chills ran down her spine until her body was covered in goosebumps, which motioned her forward. She walked briskly until reaching her car.

Renee started the car up immediately, violently shaking as she waited for heat to emerge. She slapped the water away under her eyes and cursed as the realization of her life hit her and memories came flooding back.

She remembered the texture of Dimitri's skin, only because it was smothering her so often. She remembered what it felt like to go days without food, stuck in a pile of her own blood because she was too weak to move. She remembered the sharp pain of her toe being cut off, right before branding her upper right arm. She felt the sting of several drugs being injected, bringing a paralyzing pain even the strongest of soldiers couldn't combat. Even as the heat fully warmed the car, she continued to convulse. Had Renee been more lucid, she would have noticed the thin strips of blood trickling down her arms from her fingernail imprints. Lightning snapped her back into the present, and wiping the tears away, she pressed on the gas, steadying herself with a death-grip on the leather steering wheel. "Jack," she repeated his name over and over while attempting to breathe.

In the back of her mind she heard Dr. Bennett's words. "Everyone has a trigger. At some point yours will be pulled. You'll remember everything that happened. Try to be with loved ones then or call me."

_The rain. I haven't felt rain since before Russia. The damn rain,_  Renee thought as she pulled into her usual parking spot.

Jack turned the stove on medium heat as he poured the freshly made sauce over the wobbly yellow noodles. Surveying his surroundings, he saw that everything was in it's rightful place. There were two candles on the table, plates soon to be filled with spaghetti, and a glass of wine at the center. A few nights prior, Jack decided to surprise Renee with a candlelight home cooked dinner. It was a celebration of sorts; they had yet to celebrate the fact they were both alive, together, and home. He hadn't thought of any place as a home in god knows how many years, but once Renee re-entered his life, he began associating home with her. It was normal to see a wet towel in the closet because she always left it there after she showered, or a hairbrush on their dresser and a book on her nightstand. Smiling, he walked over to the trashcan and pulled the full bag out with ease. Despite the rain, Jack decided to take the bag out to the curb where trash was collected every week.

"What the hell," he whispered as he reached the parking lot. He started sprinting towards his car, hundreds of water droplets pelting against his skin. "Renee?" He felt he was screaming against the wind as he tapped on the glass. Jack opened the passenger side door and occupied the empty seat across. Looking at her, he recognized the look on her face. It mimicked her exact expression after killing Vladimir Latanin, a memory they'd both rather forget. She careened onto his chest, the vibrations of her body bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin.

"I don't know what happened. I was fine and then just," her voice rose and fell with every syllable.

"Shhhh," He held her tight, hands unknotting her long (and recently cut) auburn hair. "Do you hear the rain?" he asked. Renee nodded, to distraught for a snappy, sarcastic response. "I want you to close your eyes." Jack paused a minute. "Are they closed?"

"Yes," she whispered weakly.

"Now I want you to pretend the rain is the sound of waves crashing on a beach. You are looking out at the sunset, sand all up your legs and in between your toes, coating your feet. When you wiggle your toes, you can feel each grain tickle your foot." Jack reached in the back seat and grabbed a blanket, wrapping her in a cocoon with her head poking out. He saw lightning flash across the sky and hit the ground as he looked up. "The wind chills your skin so you wrap a towel around your shoulders. As you walk closer to the shoreline, you begin to feel the water wash the sand away, the salt irritating your ankles, but you walk deeper into the abyss anyway." Gradually her body slowed. "The sky is orange and a magenta pink and the deepest purple you've ever seen in a sky. You can see the moon too, even though it's not completely dark yet. It's a full moon tonight." Thunder roared over his words. "Out of your peripheral, there are two kids, about 7 years in age, building a giant sandcastle. Do you see it?"

"Keep talking," her voice was quiet as her arms tightened around him. She listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat until his words faded into a comforting, cloudy tone with no meaning.

Half awake, thirty minutes later, she felt the warmth of Jack's hands guiding her through a dark, wet, parking lot, up the stairs, and into their apartment. She collapsed on the bed, removing her jeans and shirt before crawling under the covers and burying her head into a pillow. "Thank you," she yawned before succumbing to exhaustion.

Renee rubbed her eyes open and stretched. She propped herself up and rested her head in her hand. "Hey," she yawned.

"Hi," Jack's voice alert but soft. He mirrored her position. "How are you?" She loved the smile on his face, mostly that he was able to smile at her at all. "You look beautiful, " his voice dropped several octaves lower but maintained its gentleness.

She laughed. "My face is still the size of a football and puffy and gross."

"A beautiful purple and yellow football." he countered. His gaze was concentrated, looking through her as if she was a fogged glass jar that he longed to clean, but his eyes looked exultant. Somehow she knew this look was reserved for her.

Her smile widened as she rolled her eyes and threw a small pillow in his direction, then inching her body nearer to his. "With splotches of red," she whispered into his ear. With Jack's body arched under hers, she felt his closeness in its full effect for the first time. Hesitantly she kissed behind his ear, surprisingly soft compared to the rest of his body. He turned under her until their lips were touching, arms wrapped around her back. "Renee," he breathed, pulling away after about ten seconds.

"Mmmhmm?" Her voice vibrated on his neck and he somehow found the strength to swallow.

"Renee, please." He felt her shut her eyes and sigh before she turned back over, distancing herself from him. He stammered for a minute, repeating "I" several times before she interrupted him. Her voice was agitated but she tried to mask it.

"I know Jack," was all she had to say. Because she practically lived in his headspace. He was terrified of hurting her, both because she was still recovering from Russia, which left her physically and emotionally beaten, and because his belief that he's cursed. She hadn't ruled out that possibility, but she no longer valued her life like she did his. "It's fine. I promise." She refused to look at him, which left Jack to stare at the darkness of her hair, which disappeared under the opaque covers.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving, " she replied realizing that she only ate once in the past twenty-four hours. "It's like 1:30 in the morning and I don't want to leave."

"Good, because I made you dinner. I made us dinner," he corrected himself.

"What?" Renee turned to face him, hoping he wouldn't notice how shiny her eyes appeared.

"Pasta. I know there's not many foods you've felt up to eating and…Well I thought you deserved a proper date, or dinner. It's whatever you-"

The anxiety rose from her chest in the form of butterflies. The ridiculousness of this feeling was not lost on her. "Thank you. I'm sorry. If I had known earlier-"

"Don't do that. Ever. Food will wait. I'll go heat it up and see you in a few minutes."

"Okay," she smiled.

Every time he looked at her, a plethora of emotions hit him simultaneously. Happiness, guilt, pride, fear, surprise, understanding, hope, and everything in between. She was sitting cross-legged opposite of him, the flicker of candles illuminating her skin. She wore a low V-neck sweater with black leggings, making a comment about how cold it was when she walked in the kitchen/dining room area.

"I didn't take you for the candlelight dinner type," she said before twirling her fork into the angel hair spaghetti.

"Maybe I'm not." There was a short silence as they both ate. They kept the conversation simple and neither of them brought up the kiss. Renee recalled her sessions with Dr. Bennett without mentioning their talk of Russia or Jack.

"I think I want to go see my mother. She's living in a home in Nevada."

"Are you-"

"She won't remember me," Renee interrupted. "She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's several years ago. My sister resented me for never visiting her after joining the FBI. We haven't talked since. But mom doesn't remember me. She won't remember my…my death."

The swelling on Renee's face had decreased tremendously since returning to the States, not to say her body wasn't covered in bruises, bandages, and scars. It was. Even in the dim lighting, Jack could see the small markings on her neck and chest, a constant reminder of her suffering. Her eyes were hollow and dark, but he saw beyond them. He could feel her still fighting to live. He reached out, interlacing his fingers with hers. "Jack?" Her voice was much more solemn.

He opened his mouth to speak but silence pursued, filling the space. The silence fit them, letting their thoughts run. They sat like this for several minutes. "If you'd like some company along for the ride…" he trailed off.

"I'd love that." There was a tenderness in her expression and Jack wondered how she was able to feel any emotion other than pain, especially so soon. "In fact, I think I'll call Chloe up right now and see what she's doing this weekend." She smirked, watching Jack's expression turn into a smile.

She couldn't remember the last time she was conscious in a car for so long. They drove down back roads to avoid traffic and enjoy the scenery. Renee would fidget with the radio every half hour, never settling for one station or genre of music. It reminded her of vacations with her family when she was a teenager and they'd go to the beach every summer.

"What is your favorite memory?" she asked Jack as the trees blurred into an indistinguishable line that separated it from a blue sky. Her arm was hanging out the window, catching the gusts of wind.

"I don't know," he replied after a minute.

"Fine then. Top 5 favorite memories." She studied his features, his jaw line, the shape of his mouth, color of his eyelashes, every wrinkle she traced with her eyes. Her face was soft even through the healing bruises and cuts still encompassing her body. She looked as if she was at peace here, a small smile fighting to emerge every time she looked at him. The smile always came when he was with her.

"Okay." He pondered whether or not to say his next words. "When Teri and I first married, we went to this abstract art museum during our honeymoon. I hate art, but she always loved it. I just remember her presence brought so much life to the room, and she'd laugh with strangers over all these different interpretations of the artwork. It was the first time I saw how happy someone could be and it filled me with so much…hope…and love." Jack smiled at the thought. They were quiet for a moment, silence suspended in the air. "Sorry," he muttered.

"For what? Loving your wife?"

"No it's just you probably don't want to hear about my-" Renee extended her hand to his, closing it tightly around his.

"Yes I do. Keep talking." He brought their hands up to his mouth and kissed hers, knowing that this was another example of hope and love that he couldn't fathom.

"When Kim was little…" he started off. 'This is my favorite memory,' he thought as he continued to tell of years passed, the heat of her hand keeping him safe in reality.

Sometimes she surprised herself with how much the FBI instincts were a part of her; instincts to survey her surroundings and threats, examine all the nearest exits and possible weapons, were engraved in her beyond her control. It's probably why, when they walked in, the secretary had a look of optimistic fear.

"Hi. What can we do for you today?" Her voice would have been high pitched if she had been speaking any louder. It made Renee's stomach twist into a ball of anger - later she would realize it was the unvarnished perkiness of her demeanor that she [Renee] was envious of.

"Hi yes. I'm looking for…" she choked on her next words. "I'm looking for Emma Walker."

"I'll show you the way. She doesn't have many visitors…I didn't catch your names, what were they?"

She had a short black bob, subtle makeup, blue eyes, tan skin, and looked to be in her mid twenties.

"Jack." He spoke up for the first time amd nodded at her.

"Renee," she followed, now realizing that she had grabbed his hand when they entered the building. Jack felt her tense and squeezed hers tighter.

"It's nice to meet you," she tried to make eye contact while leading the way, resulting in her head turning in an awkward direction. "I'm Caroline Pratt. I've known Emma since she arrived here and she's been doing really well. Some days are better than others of course, but she hasn't regressed as much as expected." Her voice was too nice, not in a insulting way, but it was enough to make Renee's stomach churn.

Fear shot through Renee as they approached the door to her mother's room. "Does she remember her family?" she asked, skillfully masking any emotion.

Caroline shrugged. "It depends. Some days are better than others. She lost a daughter about 4 years ago, so I think psychologically she is also suppressing the memories. I'm her primary caregiver."

"Okay. Thanks," she responded; entering the room felt more like a robotic motion than something her brain governed. She squeezed Jack's hand before letting go.

"Hi Ms. Emma," she kneeled down before her while Caroline and Jack gave her the room. "Do you know who I am?"

Emma's hair was a short golden blond, eyes an esoteric blue, and deep wrinkles around her temples and neck. She didn't recognize Renee, who told fully a love story of an ex FBI agent and a man named Jack Bauer, in third person. Emma had always loved tragedies because it reminded her how to feel. Renee described her story as a "tragedy in reverse with several plot twists". While there were details she left out, certain forms of torture for example, she didn't sugar coat it either. Her voice was monotonic as she tried to find the numbness she once felt; it was the only way she could recite the story of her life. Later, curled up in Jack's chest, she would cry, sob, until she was so exhausted from the action that her body unwillingly succumbed to sleep, despite the pain and fear overwhelming her emotions. After three hours with her mother, she departed with Jack.

"Will you come back? I loved having you visit. You remind me of someone, but I can't recall who." Emma asked before Renee left.

Renee smiled. "Yes. I promise I'll come back."

He was overly sensitive to the environment; not the emotional kind of sensitive, but he could feel, smell, taste everything. The temperature must have dropped at least 20° since they arrived. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Not really." She wrapped her arm around Jack's waist, pulling him closer. It was in the low 30s outside, but her body was still used to the incomparable chill of Russia that was forged into her memory from another lifetime. Even under his two layers of clothing, he could feel the rhythmic tapping of her fingers when she grew impatient with the crosswalk. "Are you?"

"I'm fine." They were both too tired to talk. The vicious demons that visited them in their dreams last night left zero room for sleep. He careened into her body as they crossed the road over to the hotel they currently occupied. "Let's get you home."

"Mmhmm." She pulled her coat tighter around her stomach, too unconscious to wonder if home was the hotel or their apartment. To her, home was with Jack.

"I can't do this anymore Jack." Renee briefly closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. She listened to the kids outside their apartment playing basketball and the predictable yet erratic rhythm of car horns and running feet. "I don't know what you want me to do and I can't sit around here playing house because you're too scared to make a damn decision. I know you think that my being with you is going to result in me getting hurt Jack, but I promise," she paused letting the anger in her tone evaporate. "I promise I can't be hurt more than I already have. And I want to be with you. I know you do too or you wouldn't have butchered a man and killed so many people who were responsible." Her voice was five tones softer now, "Fuck…Jack I love you. I loved you that first day and denied it for over a year. Don't say anything right now. But you are either all in or nothing. Our days are numbered," masking the shock that her voice and composure was as strong as it was, she continued. "I need some distance. I'll be back in a few hours. Please don't let fear control you." Renee walked away, slipping her hands into her pockets and letting the door shut behind her.

She ran, letting the pain move her forward, each drop of sweat motivating her to move faster, harder. The sound of her shoes hitting the ground was equivalent to her heartbeat. Overly observant of her surroundings, she leaped over creeks, watching others turn to contemplate her. Inhaling felt impossible and the chilled air burnt in her lungs, stinging her throat like a needle. Her breasts refused to still even when she momentarily slowed her pace, and she could feel the lift in her back, bringing an uncomfortable sensation. She remembered someone telling her it was September or October, maybe even early November, but she couldn't remember. The colors, various oranges, yellows, purples, and her favorite - reds, awed her as she took in the aroma of freshly cut grass when she passed the park. The leaves fell from their homes, circling swirly patterns in the sky before meeting their death on the ground. No one else in the vicinity seemed to appreciate the view as much as she. Even if she was crying, she was too focused to notice and told herself it was perspiration. Her moist clothing stuck to her skin and she thought of a shower. She thought of the ice cold downpour pelting her skin, and where each droplet would hit to eventually relax her muscles. Already imagining herself leaning her head against the slippery tile, she closed her eyes, feeling water slide off her breasts and soaking into her shoes. She ran like this for two hours before turning around, purchasing three water bottles, and jogging home.

To her surprise, Jack wasn't home. Instead he left a note on the table that read "Tried to call. Chloe's car broke down. Be home soon. -Jack"

"Great," she muttered to herself. She could feel anxiety beginning to form in her chest and knew that a shower was her best option. It felt better than she imagined. Massaging the shampoo into her hair made her want to drift off while relieving some pain. Jack got home as she turned the faucet off and stepped out of the shower.

"Jack?" she called, after having already wrapped the nearest towel around her, but when she looked up he was there, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her. He pressed her against the wall, mouth hot as it touched hers.

"I love you too," he whispered before stepping back. She tried to follow him but he stopped her. Renee turned her head in confusion. "Do you want this? Because I don't want to do anything that you-" Her arms were wrapped around his waist, pulling him into her as her lips parted, body arched into the shape of his.

"Yes."

Nothing had ever felt more like healing. Every touch was memorization; what his skin felt like in her palms while the soft sheets shifted in patterns over her skin, every bone and muscle and how it reacted when she touched it different ways. It was slow, and every motion tender, more gentle than she remembered it, yet urgent. He mapped out every scar, momentarily erasing them and all the pain they represented with his lips or his hands. He inhaled the smell of her shampoo while she spoke into his neck, using all of his strength not to flip her over and let her finish her sentence. (She didn't). His tongue traced the outline of her body and he smiled when she involuntarily said his name as he went over the curves of her breasts or the inside of her thighs. She halfway registered the thud of a book hit the floor, the feel of him clouding her senses as her head found the soft landing of a pillow. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his forearms, anchoring their intertwined bodies together. Until now, Renee had forgotten the sensation of wanting something - someone. Now the desire overwhelmed her, she couldn't get close enough, discover enough; intoxication more natural than breathing. They were both trembling. Renee grinned into his shoulder.

"You okay?" his body stilled next to hers and she shifted her weight onto his torso.

"I'm…I'm perfect." she kissed him passionately and leaned into the mattress. "I love you," she whispered, out of breath. But it was more than that. If she spent the rest of her life trying to find the words to describe how she felt and why she felt that way, she'd fail. A minute passed, both staring into each others eyes - into the soul. "I love your humility and how you always put others, strangers even, before yourself."  _Oh God,_  she thought.  _Am I really about to say all this? Well, it's fatal not to finish what you started._  "And your eyes. And your scars; they're your stories."

"Renee-"

"I'm not done. Your loyalty and selflessness. You know, that's what attracted me to you when I began to see who you really were. You've shown it to me every moment we're together. When you hold me and become like…a human Kleenex or something. And you never do anything halfway. I love every little new thing I learn about you."

He pulled her on top of him and brushed his lips over hers, tasting toothpaste, perfume, granola, salt, and a scent that he could only associate as being her. His fingers tightly tugged on her hair until his hand slid down her back, electrifying the parts of him that had been numb since he lost her. Her lips pressed harder against his, almost violently. "I missed you," she mumbled when breathing became more necessary than desire. In her peripheral she spotted her discarded towel under his clothes, laying her head on his torso, feeling him nibble at her earlobe, the curve of his lips shaping themselves upward. She listened to the rise and fall of his breathing, subconsciously synching hers with his until they were one.

"How are you so strong?" he whispered into her ear.

"What are we talking about right now?" She rolled over so that she could see his expression.

"You've found a rhythm of things…After…Everything that happened. You recovered."

This conversation should make her uncomfortable. She should be looking for all possible exits and bolting in .02 seconds, but she was with Jack and everything was safe and warm and fuzzy still. She focused again on his hands, which had now put enough distance between them so he could massage her shoulders. It felt so good to be touched like that. "It was like being in someone else's body," she started. "I was powerless against all of it and I just wasn't me… I was faking I was okay, mustering up all my willpower to not be in a constant mental breakdown. Having been through an abuse cycle already…I convinced myself it was just another mission for awhile. But then you. All these damn feelings resurfaced. And I don't want anymore lost time, so I've been trying to keep all my shit together." She relaxed into his chest even more, planting tiny kisses wherever her mouth landed. They both knew this was their second chance. They'd already beaten the odds several times, and he thought maybe this time they could soak in happiness for just a while longer.


End file.
